Strong Enough
by ilovetvalot
Summary: When the unexpected happens, she turns to the one person strong enough to help her cope.


_**A/N - Hello. We have exactly **__**THREE **__**days left to NOMINATE your favorite authors and stories in the second annual Criminal Minds Profiler's Choice Awards hosted by "Chit Chat on Author's Corner" forum. Random drawings for TWO $10.00 Amazon gift cards will be given to two lucky nominators. To be considered eligible, all you have to do is fill out a ballot in ten categories or more. Winners will be announced October 16, 2011! So **__**PLEASE**__**, take a trip to the forum and grab those ballots!**_

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**Strong Enough**

There were days when all a person could be expected to do was keep breathing.

This was definitely one of those days.

Rubbing the bruise marring her cheek as she stared into the bathroom mirror, she shook her head, silently wondering how life had come to this.

People like her didn't have problems like this. And yet, here she stood, reduced to becoming just another statistic that would be shared in mindless police stations everywhere. Flipping off the bathroom light as she turned and painfully made her way back to the living room, she gratefully sank down on the center cushion of the sofa. Glancing at the wall clock, she knew the exact moment her savior arrived, the barking dog next door announcing his arrival.

Reaching out a hand to pull herself up on the coffee table, her eyes found the photograph that had served as a centerpiece for months. Once it had symbolized what she thought had been an ideal relationship. Now, it was simply a mocking reminder of her supremely bad taste in men. God knew, she was giving Elizabeth Taylor a run for her money in the misery department.

Hearing the doorbell chime, she quickly pushed the framed memory face down on the table and rose to cross the room. One quick look through her peephole confirmed her visitor's identity, and she twisted the deadbolt, unlocking the door.

One look in his face confirmed what she already knew. She really did look like hell. "Thanks for coming, Boss Man," she said huskily, her voice still hoarse from crying.

Pressing his lips together as he got a look at her damaged face, Aaron closed the door behind him as Penelope Garcia turned and made her way back into the living room, her invitation to enter her apartment going unspoken.

"I came as soon as I heard your voice mail," he said quietly, following her into the cheerily painted living room. The sunshine yellow walls seemed vulgar today, the happy color only highlighting Garcia's unhappiness. "Did you call anyone else?" he asked, shrugging out of his lightweight jacket and tossing it over a floral print chair.

"No," Penelope answered faintly, unable to force herself to look at him. Why in the world had she chosen to call him of all people? It wasn't as though she didn't have friends. Any of the team would have rushed over here to help her, wouldn't they?

But the rational part of her psyche knew why he'd been the phone call she'd made.

Unlike the others, Hotch would remain calm and steady. He wouldn't react emotionally. He'd just be. He'd always been the rock that weathered any storm...that one tree still standing firm after the hurricane. She admired that. She needed it.

"Okay," Hotch said as he nodded, circling the sofa to sit down beside her, careful to keep some space between them. "First, I need to know if we need to get you to a doctor," he said quietly, his eyes cataloguing the bruise on her cheek...the small cut on her hand.

Shaking her head mutely, Penelope pulled the soft sapphire throw more tightly around her shoulders.

"Are you sure?" Hotch asked softly, frowning as he spotted the slightly raised skin around her temple.

"Yes," Penelope whispered, her throat tightening for a moment as she felt herself growing emotional once again. "It's mostly just a few bruises. My landlady burst in here before...before..." she trailed off uselessly. "She had a key for emergencies. Luckily for me, she thought this constituted one," she continued, her eyes trailing around the room. A broken lamp...a still overturned table...a shattered glass...all evidence of Kevin Lynch's last temper tantrum.

"I see," Hotch offered, his voice deceptively even as he watched her averted face.

"He's gone now," Penelope offered belatedly, forcing the words out of her tight throat. "Mrs. Kornova stayed while he packed up his stuff. I don't think he'll be back."

"We need to get you a restraining order just in case," Hotch replied calmly but firmly. "I'm going to get some photographs of the room and call a black and white to take a statement from your landlady. And tomorrow, when you're feeling better, you'll need to offer one as well."

"W-why?" Penelope asked, lifting startled eyes to Hotch.

"Because this needs to be documented, Penelope," Hotch replied gently, meeting her gaze. "You have to do everything you can to protect yourself. It's pretty obvious that Kevin is unstable right now. We don't want to take any chances."

Biting her lip, Pen nodded jerkily, staring down at the gold carpet on the floor. "I never thought he'd react like...he's never done anything like this before, Hotch."

Pausing in the act of dialing his phone, Hotch shifted his gaze back to the huddled woman beside him. "Do you want to tell me what happened?" he asked gently.

Releasing a shaky breath, Pen swallowed hard before nodding. "I guess you sort of need to know, don't you?" she laughed nervously.

"It might help clarify a few things before I start calling in favors," Hotch stated carefully. "You said he's never done anything like this before. I assume that means he's never hit you before tonight, right?"

"Right," Penelope agreed with a short nod of her head.

"Do you know what triggered his behavior?" Hotch questioned, keeping his voice low as he waited for the normally enthusiastic woman to respond.

"I...I told him I didn't think we were going to work out," she confided huskily, keeping her eyes trained on the floor as she remembered the look of rage that had seemed to contort Kevin's face into something she didn't recognize.

"You were breaking up with him?" Hotch asked, surprised.

"Yes," Garcia confirmed, blinking back tears that suddenly demanded to be released. Raising her chin, she added with a sigh, "Part of this is my fault, Hotch. He had no idea that I'd become unhappy and maybe he was right when he said I'd been leading him to believe things that weren't true."

"Penelope," Hotch interrupted, covering her hand with his and squeezing gently, "I don't care what happened. "_None_ of this is your fault. _You_ aren't responsible for his reaction. That's on him."

"But..."

"No," Hotch said firmly, shaking his head. "Penelope, he hit you," Hotch bit out, raising one finger to press gently against her cheek. "He left bruises on you. I don't care if you'd called him every name in the book...nothing excuses his behavior."

"He thought I was having an affair," Penelope explained hesitantly, "That's why he did this," she said, gesturing at her face. "He was convinced that Morgan and I were..." she shook her head, trying to hold herself together. "We weren't...aren't," she added quickly, jerking her head toward Hotch when he remained silent and still. "I swear, Hotch...I'm not doing anything with _anyone_, Derek Morgan included," she rushed to assure him. "We're just _friends_," she insisted again.

"Penelope," Hotch said, keeping his voice slow and deliberate, "I believe you. You don't have to defend yourself to me. I'm on your side."

Catching her breath as her heart pounded against her breastbone, Garcia bit her lip. "Everyone always assumes that because we flirt and play around that there's something _there_. Kevin was always suspicious. I think he assumed that Derek and I had had a thing once. I tried to tell him," Pen explained desperately, "but he wouldn't listen."

"He didn't want to hear you. Hearing you meant he'd have to accept your decision. He wanted to blame someone rather than acknowledge the truth that you wanted to move on," Hotch explained, keeping his true thoughts to himself as he imagined the retribution that would be soon demanded from Kevin Lynch for hurting this amazing woman.

"Well, if I hadn't already made up my mind, the right hook to the jaw clarified things for me," Penelope muttered, touching her cheek gingerly. "I'm sorry I dragged you into my drama, Boss Man," she ruefully apologized. "I just didn't know who else to turn to."

Nodding once, Hotch murmured, "I understand."

"Do you?" Pen asked carefully.

"Let's review the options you had," Hotch offered dryly. "There's Morgan, of course. I think we can both imagine what he'd have done had you called him tonight. And while I respect how close the two of you are, I don't relish the thought of trying to get him off the hook for cold-blooded murder. Calling Rossi would have meant being subjected to a masculine temper tantrum in two languages. There's Reid," Hotch mused, his lips twitching, "And while I know that we all love his clinical mind, I don't quite think even someone as gentle as you could have tolerated his unique ability to quote statistics on domestic violence. Then, there's JJ and Emily. And while I can safely assure you that every man, myself included, on our team is going to want Kevin Lynch drawn and quartered, our methods would be efficient...quick. I'm entirely convinced that Prentiss and JJ would implement an offensive so torturous that it would put some of the unsubs we've put away to shame.

Lips lifting in a genuine smile, Penelope winked. "I didn't think you were supposed to profile your team?"

"How else am I supposed to stay a step ahead of them?" Hotch asked with a long-suffering sigh.

"I guess you're right," Penelope whispered as she nodded reluctantly. "I just hate...burdening you. Coming out in the middle of the night to rescue your technical analyst isn't exactly in your job description."

"Garcia, if you don't believe anything else, believe that tonight you aren't my technical analyst and I'm not here for the sake of the Bureau. I'm here because I'm your friend," he replied gently, squeezing her hand.

Throat clogged with emotion, Penelope's chin wobbled. It wasn't often Aaron Hotchner opened up to anyone, and the idea that he was willing to be there for her...not as her superior, but as a friend moved her immeasurably in a way she wasn't certain she was ready to understand. "Thanks, Hotch," she whispered.

Wrapping his free arm around, Penelope's slumped shoulders, Hotch pulled her against him. "It's okay to lean on someone else, Sweetheart. You don't always have to be the one that holds everybody else up."

Turning her face into his shirt, Penelope's shoulders shook as she admitted to herself that _this _was the very reason she'd called Aaron Hotchner.

He was the only man tough enough to take her weight.

He was strong enough to bear the burden.

_**Finis**_

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